Smut

by Karina Halle

She cocks an eyebrow at me and it’s only now that I realize she’s at the “brow phase” of her beauty school, because it looks like two singed caterpillars have laid down on her forehead to die.

“Whatever. It’s Satan’s playground is what it is.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a lesbian,”

I feel like I’ve been hit by a big giant sex bus.

The first word that comes to mind is quaint. Which is one step above “rustic” and “dilapidated.”

What can they offer that my fingers can’t?” “Fingers cramp up.”